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Saturday, December 22, 2012

Buy Link @ Liquid Silver BooksBuy Line @ AmazonBlurb:Gabrielle McCallaghan just lost her job. Seeing the writing on the wall, she
quit to spare her uncle the embarrassment of having to fire her. With her bond
fairy on her shoulder, she strides through a crowded neighborhood contemplating
her options. Out of nowhere, a gorgeous, full blood magic wielder appears and
makes a beeline right for her. Gabby knows her hybrid witch magic is no match
for his, so she tries to evade him. The fairy does her best to help, but the
contest is laughable. Even in his human form, the wolf-man is still stronger
than she ever dreamed of being. It doesn’t take long before Gabby is drawn into
a deadly game of intrigue that started over a thousand years before. The stakes
are high and the timing abysmal, but she finds herself falling in love in spite
of herself. Can she and her full blood lover make a life for themselves? Or will
the long-running battle between full bloods and hybrids pound the fragile bond
between them to dust? Excerpt:Gabrielle shook her head. She was shocked at how eager she was to be free of
Brad and this office. Now that the possibility of independence sat there,
beckoning to her, she couldn’t resist. “Thanks, Uncle Brad. You’ve been more
than kind to me.”

He cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, voice
surprisingly gentle, “keep in touch. If you stop by tomorrow, I’ll have your
check for this last week.”

Gabrielle knew how little she’d done. “That’s
okay. I’ll just grab my things and be out of your hair. I—” but she didn’t know
what else to say. Suddenly uncomfortable, she turned away from her uncle and
went to clear her few possessions out of her desk. After inadvertently slamming
her long, dark hair in a desk drawer, she pulled it into an untidy pony tail.
Ten minutes later, she let herself out the swinging glass door adorned with BRAD
MCCALLAGHAN, CPA, in faded, dark blue letters.

“That wasn’t very smart,”
she muttered to the pixie sitting on her shoulder. “What am I going to do
now?”

Doesn’t matter, I’m free.

“No, we’re free,” Amalia
corrected. The pixie was clearly in mind-reading mode. "It hasn’t been any fun
at all being your bond fairy ever since you took that job. All you’ve done is
grump around, hating life.”

“Why?” Amalia crossed one leg
over the other. The foot that dangled beat a tattoo against Gabby’s
breast.

“Never mind.” Knowing it would be wasted breath to try to get the
pixie to do anything but what she wanted, Gabrielle sucked in crisp autumn air
and walked toward the bus stop. It felt good to be outside. Not living a lie
anymore was a big relief. She’d struggled with guilt for months about her
antipathy for Microsoft Excel, Turbo Tax and Tax Cut. At least that part was
over.

Strangers swirled around her. Seattle’s Capitol Hill was always
full of people. Gabrielle looked longingly at a Starbuck’s sign, but three
dollar coffees weren’t part of her new austerity plan. Actually, neither was the
bus. What she needed to do was walk home. She had the time. And lower Queen Anne
Hill wasn’t all that far away. She could be home in an hour.

What a
joke. I have nothing but time now. Maybe if I walked more, I could get rid of
some of this blubber. She tugged at the too-tight waistband of her too-short
dark green skirt. Sitting eight hours a day hadn’t improved her figure at all.
Gabrielle knew her height masked extra pounds; she also knew she’d gained a good
ten since she started working for her uncle.

“Don’t stare,” Amalia
hissed, sea-blue eyes wide with apprehension, “but that looks like
trouble.” The pixie always reverted to mind speech when she felt threatened.
Good thing too. Her constant dialogue had gotten Gabrielle into trouble more
than once when someone had assumed she was the source of some smartass comment
or other. Not all humans could hear pixies. It depended how much magic they had.
The problem was when a person had no idea they had magic, but had been
blessed—or cursed—with just enough to hear fairy chatter. Those folk were the
ones who’d ended up in asylums a hundred years ago. Now doctors just crammed
them full of mind-numbing drugs.

Gabrielle’s head snapped up. A hunk of a
man who radiated power—wore it like an aura that screamed how much clout he
had—strode down the opposite side of the street as if he owned the world.
Coppery hair fell nearly to his waist. Well past six feet, he was dressed like a
pirate in a cream-colored shirt with full, old-fashioned sleeves, a dark brown
leather vest, and tight-fitting, black leather pants that left very little to
the imagination. Knee-high boots of buff-colored suede fit over the pants.
Apparently feeling her gaze on him, he slowed, head turning from side to side.
Gabrielle could have sworn he was scenting the air like a dog.

“What
is he?” Gabby sent. “I know he’s a full blood, but what kind?”
Because pixies were entirely magical just like the full bloods, they were often
quicker on the uptake. Gabby was a hybrid and her human blood often got in the
way.

“Warg. He can see me, Gabby. Do something.” Amalia’s nails dug into
her shoulder.

The pixie’s words had barely registered when a wolfish
amber gaze settled on Gabrielle, boring into her. Heart racing, she ducked into
the first shop she saw.

“Are you all right, miss?” A shopkeeper hurried
over. Dyed red hair spiked in curls that fell past her shoulders. Sharp, green
eyes took in Gabby and her off-the-rack J.C. Penney’s clothes.

Gabrielle
looked around and saw she’d entered a lingerie store, and a pricey one at that
judging from the tags hanging off flimsy bits of silk. She tried to quiet her
breathing. “Yes. Just thought I’d, uh, look around a bit. I have a friend who’s,
ah, getting married.” She offered up what she hoped was a convincing smile,
reinforced by the tiniest leave me alone spell. The last thing she needed
was for the salesclerk to boot her out of the store.

“There you are,
darling.” A cultured baritone rang from the doorway. The voice had a definite
German accent. “Nice of you to shop for something to entertain me.” The warg
moved to her side and slid a hand under her elbow. A blast of sexual energy set
Gabby’s nerves on fire. Her nipples pebbled instantly and her skin tingled with
promise. Mostly so she wouldn’t throw herself into his arms, she took a step
away and tried to settle her heart back into a normal rhythm. But the warg’s
heat—and a delicious musky scent—followed her.

The shop girl’s eyes grew
huge. She was practically salivating. Gabby could tell she was struggling to
keep her gaze above the warg’s waist. “Welcome to my shop, sir,” she cooed. “We
have things for men too.”

Monday, December 3, 2012

I didn’t start out writing romance. Nope. I started out
writing science fiction and fantasy. Hence the whimsical photo to the left. But you know what? After a while I noticed
no matter where my story was set: modern world, high fantasy world, or a
twisted science fiction dystopia, romantic elements always crept in. It was a
natural progression to have the romance be the story, so I’ve written a bunch
of pure romances now, too. All of them have paranormal elements, but they have
happy ever after endings, too. I still
write quite a bit outside the romance genre, but I think my foray into romance
has added depth to the rest of my writing.

Who would have guessed how satisfying it would be to write
“happily ever after” or even “happy for now” endings? I think they’re even more
fun to write than they are to read. For one thing, the characters are content. Any
writer will tell you satisfied characters are way more malleable than unhappy
ones. Characters in romance books get what they want: the love of their life.
No one is worried how they’ll get along with one another six months or a year
down the road.

That’s probably a good segue to my other—and much
longer—career as a psychologist. I saw lots of couples in my office over the
years. Did I ever save any marriages? Not exactly. I did, occasionally, help a
couple reconnect with one another. But mostly, couples who come for marriage
counseling show up when there’s been so much bad water under the bridge, it
would take more than a dash of suspension of disbelief to resurrect the love
that drew them together in the first place.

I think that’s one of the appeals of romance in fiction. It
lets us step outside the problems and issues in our own relationships and
follow a fictional hero (or heroine) through theirs. The difference is no
matter how many bad things happen to our fictional couple, their love for one
another conquers all. And they ride off into the sunset at the end, or fall
into one another’s arms. The men are all gorgeous alphas. The women strong and
sexy. They’re who we secretly see ourselves as when we strip away the obnoxious
reality of husbands who leave their clothes scattered all over the floor,
scratch their privates, and fart in front of the television. Or wives who text endlessly with their girlfriends.

I was part of an author online chat the other day. Some of
the other (female) writers characterized their husbands as “knuckle draggers.”
Ahem, don’t see too many of those in romance novels. (In case any of you are
curious, I’ve always seen my husband as a renaissance man. Maybe that’s why
we’ve been married so long.)

While we’re talking about the nexus where reality meets
fiction, let’s not forget the kids who thumb their noses at us when we have the
temerity to suggest they clean up their rooms. It’s not accidental that
children are few and far between in romance novels. If they do show up, they’re
usually infants. Too young to be anything other than cute.

Reading is an escape. Really good books draw us into a world
that transcends our waking reality. Sometimes they even give us ideas for how
to make that reality work better for us.

What was the last story you just couldn’t put down? Did you
immediately hunt for something else by that author? Who are your favorite
romance heroes or heroines? I certainly have a few. Tell you what. You show me
yours and I’ll share mine.